


Thirty Minutes or Less

by ChristinaK



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Smallville
Genre: AU, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Jossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristinaK/pseuds/ChristinaK
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark is confused and Lex is drunk. Mid-life crises are difficult even if you are an evil genius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirty Minutes or Less

**Author's Note:**

> Perri's responsible for half the lines in this silliness. She also did an excellent beta. The other Horsechicks just laughed a lot. Dee came up with the title! For which I'm glad, 'cause I couldn't think of one.

Clark recognized the voice immediately; he was just surprised Lex bothered to call him at the Planet, instead of using a sonic blast and high frequency death threats to get his attention.

"Superman. I have a Death Ray pointed at downtown Metropolis."

"I'm listening," Superman checked around the office to make sure no one was paying attention, then lowered his voice. "What are your demands?"

"Pizza."

Clark blinked. "What?"

"I. Want. Pizza. From Naples. None of that Domino's crap in a nice box, I want the real thing. Pepperoni and sausage, with asiago cheese and mozzarella. And I want it in 30 minutes or less, or that stupid statue of you is the first thing I obliterate."

"Lex, are you..." Another blink as Clark tried to process this. "Drunk?"

"Getting there, which is why I need pizza. And don't forget the cheese sticks. They go well with-- well, I'll find something in the wine cellar." 

_click_

It only took 15 minutes to get the pizza. And most of that was standing in line to pay.

 

"Lex?"

"In here."

Lex was sprawled across the gigantic couch in his living room, the one with the ceiling-to-floor windows and the view of half of Metropolis. Various bottles of alcohol decorated the glass-top coffee table and floor. He really did have a Death Ray pointed at the middle of City Park, but the complicated Lex-specific safety was still on.

"Did you remember the cheese sticks?" Lex popped unsteadily to his feet, swayed as if pushed by a strong breeze, then stopped his forward momentum with an obvious effort.

"Yes...."

"Fabulous." Metropolis's Favorite Son and Scourge of the Justice League flipped open the box and dug in, downing a cheese stick in two bites and chasing it with a vodka shot and a tequila shot. Then he held out a piece of pizza to Clark, and gave him a napkin. "Here, it's not like I'm greedy. Plenty for both of us."

"Lex, what happened?" Clark gingerly took the pizza and watched his host with concern. He'd honestly thought Lex was messing with him when he called, but this-- this was just unsettling. Lex Luthor, plastered out of his mind. Bruce would sell tickets. Clark settled for taking the pizza slice, and perching on the arm of the couch.

"Why should anything have happened?" 

"You just blackmailed your nemesis into getting you pizza. Usually, you'd go for something like the release of frozen treasury bonds or, or, delivery of parts for your next death ray. _And_ you called me at the Planet. You never do that. You just yell off the balcony until I have to drop my latest assignment and show up. You're actually almost being... polite."

"You're not my nemesis. Dear God, Clark, get it right. I'm _your_ nemesis." Lex snorted and downed another shot, snickering slightly. "Thinking you're an evil genius. Ha. You'd never make it past the evil semi-finals."

"Lex."

"What? I can't have pizza with my ex-best-friend? Where is that written? You know, in 1918, the German and American soldiers--"

"--declared a truce for Christmas and sang songs together in the trenches. I know, you told me back in high school. It's not Christmas, and I'm not an idiot, okay? Lex, what's wrong?"

"I'm divorcing Simone."

"Oh." Clark winced. "I'm sorry."

"At least this one didn't try to kill me. Just embezzled from LexCorp. But still. I thought 'fifth time's the charm' but that was way off. She wasn't charming for more than an entire week of our marriage!" Lex's voice was becoming more and more precise, a sign that he was truly blitzed. "And to think I made her a vice-president."

"Ouch."

"Yeah." Lex sighed, and slumped back on his couch. "I'm thinking of quitting the super-villain business. The payoff isn't nearly what my father always hinted it was."

"Really?" Clark had finally relaxed enough to take a bite of his pizza, watching Lex warily. "What about saving the world from costumed freaks with messiah complexes? Directing the masses as they need to be toward global prosperity and domination?"

"I'm tired of it. Do you know how stupid my minions have become?" Lex shook his head, a wobbly movement that indicated his motor control was really starting to go. "They haven't even been trying to kill me lately. At first I thought they were intimidated, or they had confidence in my decisions, but no. They've just lost all initiative, like all of my minions always do. If I conquer the world, the general population will lose IQ points like a slow leak in the _Titanic_. I'll never have another intelligent conversation again. I can't take being the only smart person in the world, Clark!"

Clark managed not to snort mozzarella out his nose, but only because he was Superman. "Well, I'm not sure if it helps your decision at all, but I know seven or eight people who'll _stop_ trying to kill you if you're not trying to rule the world any more."

Lex made a face. "Bruce will still try to kill me."

"But he won't enjoy it as much."

"I suppose that's possible." Lex threw back another vodka shot with panache, and then picked up a mozzarella stick and toyed with it. "I need new worlds to crush, but it's all too easy--"

"Conquer, Lex. Not crush."

"Crushing is more fun. Or it used to be. Taking apart tiny companies and large countries with my mind, figuring out how you and the Just-Us League would try to stop me, working around it, sending taunting messages to you and Bruce about knowing your identities.... Maybe Simone's right. Maybe I am in a rut." He stared dolefully at the empty bottle of vodka, then picked up the tequila bottle and cuddled it. "But what else am I going to do?"

"Was that a real question? Because usually, you never want to hear my opinion. You yell at the top of your lungs how I'm a super-powered goody two-shoes with no right to pass judgement on your lifestyle or moral choices."

"Yes, damnit. I am an ex-super-villain. I'm not going to jail; I own half the world. What do I do now?"

Resisting the temptation to say 'go to Disneyland', Clark suggested, "Spend more time with your kids?" 

"No, no. That's no good." Lex tipped back the tequila, chugged for a few seconds, then stopped, meeting Clark's eyes blearily. "Do you know where they are now? Spring break. Spring. Break. Daytona goddamn Beach." He grimaced. "I don't understand where I went wrong with them."

Some things just need to be spelled out; Clark settled for a heartfelt, "Hunh?"

"They've never tried to kill me, you know." The wobble-head was back, and it reminded Clark of a Mr. Potato Head on springs. "Not even once. Didn't even hire assassins. I could _understand_ if they didn't want to kill me personally, I've never been as big a bastard to them as my father was to me... I couldn't help it, they were cute when they were little. But to not even hire someone to get me out of the way..." Lex's expression was pitiful. "I've failed as a parent, Clark. They've never even tried to embezzle from me! All my wives did, but my children? Not even one hostile takeover attempt!"

Hysterically, Clark stuffed back the urge to chortle. "Maybe they did embezzle from you, and they were so good you just haven't caught them yet."

"You think?" Hope was burning again.

"They're _your_ kids, Lex. They're capable of anything. Even working together so you never found out."

"Aww... wouldn't that be great?" A big, sappy smile played over Lex's face for a minute, and Clark took another bite of pizza to keep himself from chuckling.

Lex was slowly melting into the furniture, though, and wouldn't be deterred from his initial question. "Still doesn't give me anything to do now," he grumbled. 

"Well, what have you always wanted to do, but never got around to?" Clark asked. "There has to be something."

"I always did everything I wanted. That's why we stopped being friends."

"Oh, yeah." Clark narrowed his eyes at Lex. "That, and all the times you tried to kill Lois."

Lex waved a hand at him loosely, all bones apparently dissolved in alcohol. "Pffttt. I wasn't trying to kill her. Practically an accident, every one. Besides, I knew you'd always save her. So that doesn't count. You and Loooooois are still living happily. Ever. After."

"Why do you always say her name like that?"

"Like what?"

"Loooooois," Clark mimicked.

"Because it rhymes better with Chlooooooe that way." Lex rolled his eyes as Clark stiffened. "Please, Clark. I think the only person who bought that change of identity was my father, and only because if he'd admitted his hitmen missed, he'd have lost face points in prison."

"So all this time, you've known--" And never done anything about it. Clark shook his head. It was nice to have his shaky faith in Lex validated, but he wished it hadn't come at the price of Lex Luthor being too drunk and depressed to think straight.

"Of course." Lex shrugged. "Same way I know that J'onn J'onnz owns an east-side walk-up, Wally West wears stupid wings on his head while saving kittens and hitting on women, and Princess Diana has an invisible dome attached to the Themyscirian consulate." His pronunciation of "Themyscirian" was a little slower than it should've been, and he paused after he said it, as if mentally checking to make sure he'd managed it properly before he went on. "Always know where your enemies sleep." Lex's face fell. "The worst of mine always had the adjoining bedroom."

"Aw, Lex... I'm sure there's... someone out there, some woman who doesn't--"

"Don't. I don't need to hear it from the guy who's been married to his high school sweetheart for the last thirty years." He scowled. "It's not like you deserve her. I could've married your high school sweetheart, damnit, for as long as it took you to wake up. Some hero you are."

"Uhh...."

"Hey! There's an idea!" Lex jackknifed up, his eyes alight. "You have to divorce Chloe-lo-ee-Lois so I can marry her! She wouldn't be after my money! And my kids already like her, too."

"She'd smother you with a pillow the first chance she got, Lex."

"She wouldn't be any worse than my first two wives--"

"Lex...."

"Fine," Lex sulked. "Be like that. You never did like to share the important things." He grumbled and finished off the bottle of tequila, letting it fall to the floor. "I just don't _understand_ , Clark. This was supposed to be fun."

"What, ruling the world and being evil? Are you serious?"

"Dad always looked like he was having fun."

Clark gave him a pointed look. "Except when he went to prison."

"Heh. Yes. True." Lex savored what was obviously a favorite memory for a moment, then shook his head very slowly. "I just don't... get it. A global business empire, so solid it runs itself now. Innovations with my name on them, so prevalent they're forgotten. Five marriages, all failures. Three children, bright, smart, yes, but all so unambitious... Did I tell you Anthony wants to be a surfer? Professionally?"

"No. That's great, I mean--"

"I blame you and the Justice League and the spandex for scarring him when he was young."

"If we hadn't saved him from that kidnapper, you would've had to blow up the moon to satisfy those terrorists."

"I still blame you, though," Lex said, looking more cheerful. He staggered to his feet and over to the window, nearly tripping over a few bottles on his way. "Look at that city. _My_ city. Shiny and sparkling and... they don't know I've quit yet. No one to stand in the way of the forces of Boring, Self-Righteous, and the American Way." He thumped his forehead against the window. "I should do something nice for them. Like a going-away present. Or a retirement party. My retirement. They'll have to get someone else to fight the good and the Good Fight, now. Ungrateful bastards."

Clark picked his way over to stand by Lex. If he hadn't seen what he'd seen tonight, Clark wouldn't have believed Lex could ever change. He'd always pictured this moment, the end of the conflict, as Lex destroying him, or him having to destroy Lex, but what if that had been too dramatic? Maybe reality was simpler. 

Thirty-five years was an awfully long time to hate someone.

Thirty-five years was an awfully long time to miss someone.

"I could join the Good Fight, I suppose. Bruce likes it. It's not a bad hobby for a multi-billionaire," Lex mused. "But I never liked groups or group projects. Group credit. Committees. Headaches. Playing well with others. Blergh." He made a face, his breath starting to steam up the window a little. "Or. Or! I could become Santa Claus."

Clark gaped. "Santa Claus?"

"You know, anonymously doing good, spreading the wealth, being superior at one remove-- of course, I do that anyway, just not all the time. Yes. I *could* be Santa Claus. That's an ambition worthy of me, to buy a toy for every child, everywhere--" Lex finally saw Clark's shaking shoulders, and his eyes closed to slits. "Are you laughing?"

"No!"

"If you're laughing, I'm getting out the Kryptonite ring."

"I'm not laughing. I swear."

"Hmmph. Better not be." Lex turned back to the view. "And if you tell _anyone_ about this conversation--"

"I don't know, Lex." Clark grinned, not meeting his eyes. "Bruce is so hard to buy for, and his birthday's coming up...."

"That's it." Lex stabbed an unsteady finger downwards. "I'm taking out the statue of you as soon as that jogger's gone."

"Santa Claus would never do that."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Lex pouted, then groaned. "God, I'm going to regret this tomorrow, aren't I?"

"At least that last bottle of tequila, yeah." Clark studied him. "But hopefully not the rest of it."

"We'll see." Lex turned away and puttered back across the room toward the rest of his penthouse. "Oh, and I'm keeping the Death Ray. None of my ex-wives got it, and you're not getting it either. Just because I'm not evil any more doesn't mean you get any of my stuff."

"Hey, I bought you pizza."

"Come to brunch on Sunday. That'll make us even. And bring Chloe. Lois. Whoever." Lex turned at the hallway and smiled wickedly. "Maybe I'll give it to _her_. Then we'll see who she's more impressed by."

"Just what she always wanted." Clark grinned and picked up an empty bottle. "Good night, Lex."

Lex wavered for a moment at the door, then shrugged. "Good night, Clark. And, uh...."

"You're welcome."

"And just let yourself out." 

As long as Lex got the last word, there was a fifty-fifty chance he wouldn't change his mind in the morning. So Clark didn't say anything else, just stacked the bottles in a pyramid on top of the coffee table, ate the last of the pizza, and made sure the safety was still on the Death Ray. 

Bruce wouldn't believe this. Diana probably wouldn't, either. Lois definitely would claim Lex had another agenda. But even if Lex woke up evil in the morning, Clark was going to hang onto this evening. Just to remember that there was something to hope for.

**Author's Note:**

> First published in 2005 on my livejournal.
> 
> ETA: Jossed to heck-and-gone by about Season 5 of _Smallville_ of course, but what the heck. It's still a fun idea. I wish I could tell you how much caffeine and chocolate I was on when I wrote this, but let's just settle for saying "an excessive amount."


End file.
